April 4th. World Rat
Day.
“How stupid is that?”
thought Ben.
He drove to work that Friday
morning and saw it. A giant blow-up rat on Jericho turnpike. It was seated on its
haunches. Its eyes were red, its claws and fangs were chalky white and
menacing. He couldn’t read the sign near
its snaky tail.
“I hate
coincidences,” he muttered.
In his safe
little cubicle he read the morning’s email.
“Monthly
rattings of cubicle cleanliness will be posted in each department,” read the
memo.
“Rattings?” thought Ben. Isn’t spell-check
hard-wired into Office Web email?”
He waded through a third of his
work load until he received a text:
“Impromptu
Party: Wine and cheese to celebrate “World Rat Day.” Prize for best rat
reference. Tonight at The Dirty Pigeon in Huntington Village
He laughed.
Not surprising that his friend, Dave, would want to go to anything bizarre.
Driving
home after work Ben noticed that the Wisconsin
license plate ahead of him read, “WRAT 09.”
“It’s a
sign.”
The Dirty
Pigeon was known for its Spider Bite beer and pigeon décor, pigeon motifs
everywhere.
Ben leaned
toward a girl with soft brown hair and said, “Pigeons, rats, the owners of this
bar seem to like animal themes.”
She waved
her Spider Bite at him in agreement.
“I went to
the Dolphin and Anchor last week. They
had a karaoke contest of fish songs.”
Ben
groaned. “How many versions of Mack the
Knife can people stand?”
She gave a
throaty chuckle. Just then a waitress wearing gray spandex, round ears and a long
slinky tail stood in front of a small curtained area with a mike in her hand.
Ben saw that it was a tiny stage.
“It’s time
for our Best Rat Reference Contest,” she stated in her rather high-pitched
voice.
“What’s the
prize?” someone shouted.
“Anything
on the The Dirty Pigeon menu,” she said. “Dinner for two.”
“I
wouldn’t’ have the pigeon pot pie!” shouted the girl with the Spider Bite in
Ben’s ear as the crowd cheered.
“Or the
bird’s nest soup,” he shouted back.
“Or the
chiffon cake, light as a feather,” she responded.
Ben learned
her name, Alena, and they found two bar stools with a good view of the stage.
He was starting to like the place. The drinks were reasonable, the patrons were
friendly and the waiters and waitresses had one of the best theme-related uniforms
around. Only the MC was dressed as a rat. The rest had on dark blue tee shirts
with small white splotches on the shoulders and down the front and back. He
thought they made a design until he got it.
“Too damn
funny,” he said to Alena. “They’ve all got bird shit on their tee shirts.”
Alena took
a look and they both doubled over with laughter.
The first
contestant was on the stage. He had a brown fedora pulled over one eye.
“You dirty
rat,” he was saying in his best James Cagney mobster impression.
Applause.
Another
contestant sang a song parody about the rat race to the tune of Jingle Bells.
Laughter
and applause.
“Wow, these
people really want to win,” said Alena. “Lot ’s
of effort here.”
Finally,
the rat MC asked if there were any more entries. Ben surprised Alena by rising
with his arm in the air.
He stepped
onto the stage platform and faced his audience. Alena gave him an amused grin.
“I have to
say, those are some of the best rat references I’ve ever seen.” (low laughter
in the background) “I will finish off the night with my entry. Rat names.”
Ben fished
a folded paper out of his jeans pocket.
“First off,
if I had a rat I wanted to name after a movie star, I could name him Rat
Damon.” (snickers) “A singing rat would be Rat King Cole.” (crickets) If my rat
lived in a cage on my dresser, I would name him Bureaucrat.” (some laughs) “An
albino rat would be named Non-rat Milk.” (good-natured laughter)
“Then there’s John Ratzenburger from Cheers of course, but
since that’s his real name he may not count.” (murmurs of assent) “So there you
have it. Happy Rat Day.”
Ben bowed
to enthusiastic applause. He headed back to Alena and she hugged him.
“Con GRAT
tulations, she articulated. You’re very brave.”
Ben didn’t
win the contest. The bar favorite was the tall blonde who had explained how a
bouffant hairdo was created in the 1950s with a stuffed nylon bag called a
‘rat’ hidden under teased hair. She then proceeded to pull a rubber rat out of
her own up-do, perfectly fine with ruining her polished appearance for the sake
of a laugh.
Ben had no
doubt he had won nonetheless.
“I’m
getting hungry. Dare we try the hot wings?”
(800 words)
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